


Nothing You Could Do

by dontbecooler



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: All Platonic - Freeform, Gen, Human John, No Sex, Poor bbz, Sad, Suicide, This is over too quick sorry, Vampire Mycroft, Vampire Sherlock, Vampires, Very good though, not holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbecooler/pseuds/dontbecooler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But there are some things that have to happen, some things fate decides before you get a choice. And then there is nothing you can do.</p><p>Sherlock is dealing with the turmoils of being a vampire, and he is struggling. John is trying to help, but it's kind of hard, Sherlock being of super-strength and stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing You Could Do

**Author's Note:**

> Rightio, exam week means I get everything done apart from school work and studying, and I've got some good stuff done, including this!
> 
> my darling co-writer has no social media, but you can tag her on Omegle as Would-you-kindly if you want to find her and RP with her.
> 
> I was John/Mycroft  
> She was Sherlock/Mycroft
> 
> Warning guys there is suicide and I won't say whom but be careful!
> 
> ((Extra note Wow so many RP's going into this series))

Sherlock lay on the couch; his half lidded eyes stared up at the ceiling. His belt was wrapped around his arm, a needle jabbed into the crease in his elbow. He had only resorted to drugs after exhausting all of his other boredom relievers. The vampire had run out of blood and wasn't going to start a new experiment when he was having so much fun with the powerful substance running through his veins. He had gone a little loopy. Now he was back to his old habits. He smiled dazedly, humming a mindless tune. The door to the flat opened. Lazily, he turned his head and squinted at the door trying to see who it was

 

John opened the door to the flat, prepared with his the blood he had taken from work for his flat mate, and he swung his coat off, letting out a small sigh as he concentrated on getting out the blood. Sherlock had been turned of course, but hadn't wanted to stop living normally. John had agreed to this, but made sure that there was something for him in return. Sherlock would not kill innocent people, and he would let John watch out for him. Speaking of the bugger, John looked up, and froze, blood bag in his hand. Was that-?

"Sherlock Jesus fucking Christ what is wrong with you," he snapped, dropping the bag to the floor and storming over to the vampire. He had to be careful now, and instead of ripping the needle out of the brunet’s hands he stood at Sherlock’s head, arms crossed and waiting for an explanation. He didn't know how out of it Sherlock was, but he was about to find out.

 

Sherlock's eyes rolled around on their sockets as he tried to focus on his human flat mate. His vision was distorted; all he could see was vague shapes and colors. He could smell blood and hear the slightly elevated heartbeat of his friend. "Mmmm' fine, John." Sherlock murmured, the doctor finally came into focus and Sherlock almost shrank back. The needles sticking out of his arm didn't take away the pain of knowing John was afraid of him. He could see it in the man's eyes and how he stood a little further back than usual. Sherlock hated it, his own flat mate treating him like a monster, he was though. That's why Sherlock started using again; he couldn't handle seeing the judgment in his eyes. "Very fine..."

 

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it." The doctor snapped, tongue darting out to brush his bottom lip. He tried to slow his rapid breathing, and swallowed a few times to stop from gagging. He had seen Sherlock like this once before, in his human form, and it had been overwhelming. While he had to deal with those types of people at work, he never wanted it to happen with Sherlock. "Put the bloody needle on the floor so I can kick your arse," he growled, still not moving forward.

 

Sherlock shook his head and whined. "I don't wanna! You don't let me have any fun anymore. I can't even go out in the sun! Just let me have this." He slurred, staring past the man and straight at his skull on the mantle. He found he was bored way more often now he was a vampire. Sherlock just wished he hadn't been there on that night, wrong place at the wrong time and he paid for it with his human life. Now he was just a monster and he was lucky Mycroft hadn't shipped him off to Baskerville.

 

John let out a frustrated noise. "Too bloody bad." He snapped, stepping forward now and getting to his knees by Sherlock’s head. He had steeled himself mentally, and he tilted his head. "You either take the needle out yourself," he hissed through his teeth, maintaining a surprising level of confidence, "Or I wrestle it from you. The easy way or the hard way." The blond shrugged. "Your choice." Sherlock’s eyes should have been bloodshot, but they weren't, and John could see the veins in Sherlock’s arms but they weren't red and angry. They were a lax blue color. A dead color. John blinked, and waited for the vampire to make his decision.

 

Sherlock mulled it over for a few moments, looking into John's hard blue eyes. "Mmmkay." He mumbled, removing the needle and undoing the belt. He was still high and wouldn't be coming down for a while. He just couldn't deal with it all and drugs were his only escape. "Why are you such a big meanie?" He demanded, falling into a more childish state. He stuck out his tongue and felt his fangs descend so he decided to add them to the mix. He flashed them at his flat mate as well, attempting to growl but it came out as a more pathetic purr.

 

John rolled his eyes and stood back, collecting the drug devices carefully and putting them politely on the table across the room. He stalked back to Sherlock, grabbing the vampire’s shoulders and straightening them so Sherlock was not slumped. "You may act like an idiot," he explained quickly, "But I will not have you looking like one." He straightened the other mans shirt, folding the collar over neatly and patting it down. "Right," he snapped, standing back with a military stance and looking down to the vampire. "What is going on with you? This is the first time I've actually caught you using, but I've suspected for a while..." He curled his lips slightly, a hot lick of irritation forming in his chest.

 

Sherlock let John fix him up, knowing his flat mate would just get angry if he tried to stop him, well angrier. The vampire let out a loud sigh and wiggled slightly as he tried to get more comfortable. He didn't like sitting so stiffly. When he looked up at his now standing friend he swallowed thickly. This was a bit not good. John was standing like he was in the military and Sherlock suddenly felt very silly, he even had the urge to call the man 'sir'. He looked down, avoiding the man's judgmental gaze. "I-I...you think I'm a monster. I know you do. You don't treat me like you did before. You should have just left me that night, it would have been better if I died. You wouldn't have anything to fear." Sherlock said bitterly, a touch of sadness underlying in his voice.

 

John’s eyes widened at that. Frightened... Of Sherlock? No, he was more frightened _for_ the vampire. "You've misread everything you git," the doctor said, tone now a lot softer. "I worry for you, and while I'm hyper-aware of your new abilities, I am not scared of you." He shook his head lightly; slightly peeved Sherlock didn't have the guts to look him the eyes. "And... I never would have left you to die. Ever." He clipped the last sentence on quickly, not really comfortable sharing emotion with Sherlock, despite the fact he would probably forget everything that was going to go on in the next hour.

 

Sherlock looked up, staring the man straight in the eye. He hadn't expected his flat mate to say that. How could John not be frightened of him? He was a vampire! He drank blood and had the urge to kill people. "But...I'm a monster; you think I'm a monster. A mindless blood sucking beast. I can see it in your eyes." He muttered, staring at the man. His now red eyes met dark blue. "Nothing but a monster." The vampire curled away from the human and felt a lump rise in his throat. He just didn't want to deal with anything at that moment. He just wanted everything to go back to normal.

 

John huffed. "Right, believe what you want, all I think you are is a sulking git right at this moment." And the doctor turned on his heel and moved all his stuff to the table in the kitchen. He got out two mugs, filling one from the blood bag and sticking it in the microwave while the jug boiled. Sure, Sherlock now had an affinity with consuming blood now... But that was only a little unusual. It had been two weeks now, he had only been a little different. And the fact that he could snap John in half was rather off-putting, but he wasn’t a monster. A monster definitely wouldn't be curled up on the couch sulking. The blond continued making the drinks, stirring the now warm blood with ease. It had been hard when he first did it, but now it wasn't too hard.

 

Sherlock looked up and frowned as he watched the human move into the kitchen. He could smell the blood as his friend prepared his meal. Sherlock didn't like drinking the blood from bags. It didn't seem to have what he needed in it. It was bland and had no life, but Sherlock didn't want to feed on people, that and John would kill him. "I'm sorry, John!" He called, unfolding himself from his position and standing. He wobbled and swayed on his feet, the sudden rush from his head hitting him with full force. Sherlock stumbled forward and grabbed onto the wall. The hunger his him like a sledgehammer, and he let out a growl. "J-John. I need...now." He rasped, clawing at his throat.

 

John looked up from his own mug of tea, startled. He placed his drink on the bench and picked up Sherlock’s, walking towards the lounge. He held it out, eyes narrowed slightly at Sherlock. It was only his fault that he was acting like this. Had he been clean he wouldn't be in so much pain. He waited and watched the vampire, making sure he was okay though, because he hadn't put so much into Sherlock for it to backfire and Sherlock dying due to lack of blood consuming.

 

Sherlock grabbed the blood and gulped it down, not caring about the taste. He just needed blood. Sherlock's mind cleared slightly before he fell backwards suddenly and started convulsing on the floor. He screamed and opened his mouth wide. It burnt; whatever was in the blood was burning through him. He flipped over and retched onto the floor. Something was seriously wrong; black stained his veins and coursed through his body, poisoning him as it went. "J-John...help."

 

John cursed loudly as the mug shattered and Sherlock hit the floor. He fell to his knees beside the vampire, trying to control the wild limbs and putting almost all of his weight into keeping them still. "Fuck Sherlock what is happening?" he said desperately, heart racing at an uncomfortably quick pace. He knew medical problems to do with people, not the undead. "Shit I don't know what to do!" It was like he was operating on someone and they were bleeding out, yet he didn't know what artery had been nicked. "Sherlock!"

 

Sherlock flailed and cried out as a fresh wave of pain shot through him. The poison running through him felt like razorblades rushing through his veins and arteries. He didn't know what had happened. His mind tried desperately to figure out what had happened. He looked up at John with terrified eyes. He was scared and it wasn't an emotion he felt often. The vampire's cries were starting to fade, the pain too unbearable to put the effort into screaming. He was reduced to a tightly curled, whimpering ball. He shakily pointed at the blood and tried to communicate to John. It was the blood, something was wrong with the blood.

 

John didn't want to leave his flat mates side, but did so. It was necessary. He went to the blood bag, holding it up to the light. He didn't expect to see anything, but under the light of the kitchen, he could see a faint black mixing in with the dark red. "Well fuck," he snapped, checking all the bags and discarding them. All contaminated. But he would figure that out later. Sherlock first. He went back to Sherlock, praying to god that vampires had gag reflexes. He grunted as he dragged Sherlock to his feet, letting the vampire put all his weight on him as he moved him to the kitchen. John was tempted to chew his lip, but he was concentrating too hard to even do that. He shoved Sherlock so he was leaning over the sink, not guilty about using such force. Emergencies called for action, not a light hand. "Open," he ordered, leaning down next to the brunet and getting his index and middle fingers ready.

 

Sherlock was only faintly aware of what was happening. He was focused on the unbelievable agony, ripping through him, he needed it to stop. Whatever the blood had been poisoned with was clearly designed for vampires; but he wasn't willing to see the full set of effects. He felt himself be hoisted up and dragged into the kitchen. He gasped when he was roughly bent over the sink and sealed his lips shut at the probing fingers at his mouth. He didn't know what John was trying to do; he was starting to panic, wanting everything to end. Sherlock was getting weaker and weaker with every second. He whimpered and started to shiver.

 

John didn't have time for Sherlock to just give up. Using his free hand, he pulled the vampire’s jaw down, opening his mouth properly, and shoved his fingers to the back of the others throat. He felt Sherlock gag almost immediately, and withdrew his hand so it wouldn't get dirty. It didn't help that Sherlock was probably still in the clouds, and John wrapped the non-vomit-inducing hand around Sherlock’s back, squeezing lightly. John cursed lightly. He had no idea what he was doing. He was going off human anatomy right now.

 

Sherlock lurched forward and threw up everything he had into the sink. He continued to retch until the tainted blood was gone from his stomach, but the burning continued, getting stronger. His body had already absorbed it. Sherlock coughed weakly into the sink and went limp, falling back into his friend's strong arms. "J-John...burns..." He gasped faintly, starting to claw at his wrists, needing to get the poison out of his body. He ripped into the veins of his arms and watched as red blood with tendrils of dark black seeped from his wounds. How had his supply been poisoned? Who would target blood?

 

John was letting out a stream of curse words, one after the other. He couldn't deal with this he didn't know what to do. The doctor supported Sherlock’s body, letting the vampire do what he needed to expel the blood. The blond moved Sherlock’s wrists over the sink, slicing them with a knife from the drawer. All the blood was dripping, and hopefully it would all drain out.  "Do you think those cuts will work?" He asked, though it was unlikely Sherlock knew if they would work or not anyway.

 

The vampire whimpered, the only response he could form. Sherlock slumped, unable to hold himself up any longer. His blood dripped out of him and into the sink. He panted weakly and winced at the feeling of the poison clawing it's way through his body. When it reached his heart, he jolted, mouth open in a silent scream as he threw his head back. The vampire's eyes rolled back in his head and he convulsed a few times before falling unconscious.

 

John moved immediately, throwing Sherlock’s body onto the ground and trying compressions. He didn't care about the blood soaking the floor now. It wasn't Sherlock’s blood anyway, it was that persons, the blood he had chosen. Oh god. "You do not get to fucking get to die because you're already fucking dead!" He yelled loudly in the vampire’s face. The compressions weren't working. How were you supposed to revive something already dead? Stuck for options, John fished out his phone, finding the number and clicking it. The other end rung twice, and came the familiar Holmes drawl.

"Oh John, to what do I owe the pleasure."

John barely stopped himself cutting over, and as soon as he had the chance to speak he was almost yelling into the receiver. "Fucking brother of yours gets high as a kite so I warm him a cup of blood and he takes it and it was tainted now he's fucking unconscious and I don't know what to do he's shaking and fucking I don't know Mycroft please!" He took a huge breath then, kneeling next to the vampire and his free hand hovered, as if looking for something, anything to do.

The other end of the line was silent for a moment, there was a quiet, "I'll be right there," and then the line clicked shut.

 

Sherlock didn't respond to the compressions or the shouting or even being handled so roughly. The vampire lay on the floor, unmoving and still bleeding profusely from his wrists. The vampire in his mind was stumbling through his mind palace, searching for something, anything he could find in his inherited knowledge of vampires. He needed to know why he was poisoned and by whom. Pushing open a door he discovered a room full of information on hunters. What they did to his kind and a very limited knowledge of a new poison they were developing. It tainted a vampire's food source and prevented them from feeding, starving them slowly. Sherlock was going to die if he couldn't feed. The vampire was completely oblivious to the world around him and his friend's frantic phone call to his brother. He didn't even twitch when the scent of a second human entered the flat.

 

Mycroft stepped into the flat, tutting slightly at the mess and discarded drugs lying on the coffee table. He walked over to the two on the floor and calmly observed the situation. He knelt down and touched Sherlock's forehead. "Tell me exactly what happened, doctor." He ordered, picking up one of the unconscious vampire's arms.

 

John ran a hand through his hair, rattling off everything that had happened without thinking too much about it. After all, if one were to pull the British Government from his job, one was to do as told. "And now he's just like that and I have no idea how to help him and if he dies it will be my fault, if I hadn't chosen that bag of blood, if I had looked at it first. Fuck Mycroft, if he dies it’s my fault." He let out a pained noise, running a hand through Sherlock’s hair without thinking, just a small movement so he wasn't sitting still.

 

"John calm down. He will not die, he is just being dramatic. I have done a little research into vampires and the hunters. This poison has been in the works for sometime, but I hadn't expected them to start using it so soon. I'm sure it's still in the early stages, only a prototype. He needs untainted blood and we have to drain all of his blood to get rid of the poison. That's the only solution I can think of." He explained, picking up the knife and slicing into Sherlock's wrists again, even deeper. "Hold him down." He said firmly, moving up his arms and slicing repeatedly.

 

John moved so he was gripping Sherlock’s shoulders, and using pretty much all his weight to stop the brunet from convulsing. Hunters had poisoned that blood. "What if that poisoned blood had been injected into a human?" He mused quietly out loud, shuddering slightly at that thought of a mortal having to go through this. He watched Mycroft slice easily into his brother’s arms. Yes, well, it was lucky that actual vampires were not like folk lore and they happened to not be impervious to weapons and injuring themselves. While it seemed to hurt them, vampires seemed to have a knack for healing extremely quickly, and this would be helpful in this point of time really.

 

The vampire made a soft sound of pain as if crying out for help. He moved slightly, finding himself pinned down and being sliced up; it was not something Sherlock had expected to wake up to. He started to panic, trying to get away from the pain assaulting him from all sides. His eyes flew open, completely black to gather as much information as he fought against the hold. He opened his moth in a snarl, flashing his fangs. He felt like he was going to die.

 

Mycroft grit his teeth and pushed the other down, he could see the pain running through his little brother. "The poison only affects vampires, not humans. It would most like be injected into humans to remove a vampire's food source." He bit out, stopping his slicing and watching as the last but of Sherlock's blood flowed onto the floor. Now came the dangerous part. 

 

John flinched as Sherlock growled and snapped, finding himself almost thrown off the vampire’s shoulders. "Sherlock calm the fuck down," he snapped, finally secretly grateful the poison had made Sherlock weak or he'd probably be dead right now. The vampire was still thrashing beneath him; they needed to wait for the quick healing to do its job and his arms sealed before they did anything else. "Do you wanna help hold him down while he heals?" John asked the brother, wanting to slap Sherlock in the face for being so stupid. Had he been clean, maybe he would have noticed that the blood was off, and his eyes right now wouldn't look like pitch.

 

Mycroft nodded and helped the other to pin his brother down as the wounds on his arms healed. They we both in a very dangerous position at that moment, Sherlock could quite easily attack them if they didn't get his mind back before he healed completely. "Sherlock, we're trying to help you. Stop struggling!" He snapped at the younger man.

 

Sherlock struggled for a few moments longer before relaxing and settling back against the floor. He whined and blinked his black eyes pleadingly up at the two humans, wanting to get free. He'd been reduced to no more than a primitive creature, only able to communicate through sound. The vampire could feel the human's pulse, the one closest to him through his chest. He needed the blood flowing through him, he had to have it. Sherlock didn't waste time. He surged up and dived at his brother, but he didn’t remember that as he tore into Mycroft's neck, drinking quickly as the human struggled beneath him. Mycroft cried out, trying to pull the lithe man off of him, but it was a futile

 

John let out a loud exclamation, throwing himself at Sherlock’s back and using momentum to get him off Mycroft. They both landed heavily, and John’s military training was being rather helpful as he shoved Sherlock to the ground, pressing his heel now into the vampires’ throat. "If you move, I will run a knife through your heart," he spat, and he meant it. He would not have his flat mate reduced to animalistic behavior just because of a stressful situation. John slowly let his heel off, and now moved to be by Mycroft’s side. He helped the elder Holmes up, pressing a palm to the two savage holes now on his throat. "Do you think you're okay to get yourself medical help?" He asked quickly, keeping pressure on the wound. "I can take it from here, but you need to get out of the flat."

 

Sherlock stared up at John with wide eyes, whining and squirming under his shoe. The threat made him freeze and curl up in a ball to protect himself. He didn't like the human when he was angry. Sherlock licked his lips and stared longingly at the blood still flowing from his brother's neck, but he daren't move. The vampire watched the two sources of blood converse from his place on the floor.

 

Mycroft nodded weakly and replaced John's hand with his own. "Don't be too harsh on him, John. He is being driven by instinct, it's not his fault. He was poisoned and needed blood to survive why should he be punished for trying to keep himself alive? I don't mind him biting me, but I think he may have accidentally started the process. I may turn. Just don't hurt him. I'll be back later." His stomach was tight, as if it was twisting around itself, but he paid no mind to it.

 

John narrowed his eyes, helping the elder Holmes to the door, not really confirming or disproving what he might do. After all, if his life was endangered and he was forced to defend himself he would. If Sherlock had been human threatening him he would defend himself. It was self preservation. He shut the door quietly, before turning and narrowing his eyes even further at the vampire. "Can you speak?" He asked harshly, and by the way he was feeling it was almost like he was back amidst the war, and he somewhat expected a bomb to explode. Maybe Sherlock was the bomb. He was certainly volatile enough.

 

"If you hurt him, Doctor Watson, I will never let you see him again." The politician called as he left.

Sherlock whimpered and scampered away from the harsh human. He didn't understand why he was so angry, Sherlock had been trying to keep himself alive and that meant he needed blood; whatever was closest. He had been too weak to wait for the man to get more and he didn't trust the bagged stuff. The vampire was just trying to survive. He still needed blood but he wasn't going to go anywhere near John. He didn't want to hurt the man or be hurt by him. 

 

John took a few slow breaths at Sherlock scrambling to get away from him. He might have been being too rough. "Sherlock," he said, more softly. "I know you're frightened, but I need to be able to trust you." He held out his hands, a placating gesture. "I need to know if you're in control."

 

Sherlock scooted away again and glared warily at the human. He wasn't going to move near the other. The vampire felt threatened by his flat mate. He could sense too many violent intentions from him. The man had become more like a giant cat only capable of making sounds instead of speech than an intelligent creature. He wanted his brother. At least he didn't threaten to kill him. Mycroft would actually protect him.

 

John let out a small sigh. "Sherlock, please, I was frightened, that's why I threatened you." He got to his knees. "I know you're working on instinct here, I'm trying to help. Please." He exposed his neck slightly, breath coming more quickly as he put his life in danger. "I know you're still you Sherlock, please." He was trembling, all anger sapping from his body as he tried his best to get his flat mate back.

 

Sherlock blinked a few times and his eyes cleared. "Get away from me, human." He growled, still not trusting the man at all. His more primitive behavior had been replaced with an extremely defensive persona. He was filled with anger when his flat mate presented his neck to him. "Do you think jus because I was a mindless animal for a moment that offering your blood will fix what you did? No. It won't. I was trying to stay alive because I'd been poisoned, my instincts took over." He said lowly, eyes hard. He needed to get out of there. 

 

John stood up again now, irritation welling again, but he shoved it down. "I was worried for your brother. I thought you were going to kill him." His tone was dark, low, but strained, as if he didn't want to be speaking like he was. "You must understand, Sherlock I was trying to ensure the life of both you and your brother. Oh, by the way, he probably won't have it for much longer, because he'll turn into a vamp now." That made John tremble slightly. "And I know it's all instinct, and I felt pretty sure your instinct was to run your brother dry. I'm sorry." The blond assumed Sherlock’s drugs had been expelled from his body once the blood had been drained from him, and that was why his sentences were strung together. "Do you blame me from trying to save your brothers life?"

 

"No, I blame you for ending it." Sherlock snapped, standing as well. "My instincts told me to survive but as soon as I bit him I knew I should have stopped. I recognized his blood as my brother's and I only needed a little to keep going. Even though it wasn't the case at first." He explained his tone hard and eyes bright red. "Because you didn't let me finish what I was doing, Mycroft will die and become a vampire. I was just taking what I needed to survive, which was a few mouthfuls, nothing more. Where is he?" He demanded, looking around and sniffing. If he didn't get to him fast Mycroft would die and not come back.

 

John’s eyes widened. "You blame me for stopping killing your brother straight away instead of stopping you before you jumped him. Do you think I'm a psychic? How would I have known you were going to do that?" He crossed his arms, feeling distressed. "And I don't know where Mycroft went, back to his house to clean his wound I suppose. He'll be in the best care, so don't worry about him. I'm still worried about you."

 

"No! You didn't let me finish what I was trying to do. I was trying to complete the process so he would turn and not just die!" The vampire couldn't stay any longer. He could talk and apologize to John later; he really hadn't meant everything he'd said. He ran from the flat as fast as he could. He had to get to Mycroft; he couldn't let his brother die. It was his fault for attacking him.

 

John was about to call out, but Sherlock was gone before the noise could actually make it out. With a loud "Fuck!" John paced around the kitchen. Well, Sherlock would either find his brother and come home or not find him then come home. John let out a stream of some choice military curses, before deciding he should clean up. He started by tipping the rest of the blood down the drain, making sure it was thoroughly disposed of before starting on the broken mug in the lounge. He would tidy until Sherlock got home, that would distract him.

 

It wasn’t a long run to the more expensive side of town, and Sherlock had burst into his brother's flat and ran to his side. Without explaining, Sherlock continued what he had started to do back at his own flat. He bit Mycroft gently this time and finished the process. He injected the clear serum from his teeth, running a hand through his brother’s hair. The blood that had dripped from Mycroft’s throat had stained the bright white carpet, and Sherlock ran a hand through Mycroft’s hair. "I'm sorry, My. You're going to be fine." He promised before he ran back to his flat. Sherlock slowly made his way up the stairs, dreading what his flat mate was going to do. "John?" He called as he pushed open the door. He sniffed and the scent of blood was gone, he could still smell the human and the poison though.

 

John was scrubbing the kitchen floor. For what reason, he was unsure; the only thing he could think about was making sure the floor was completely clean. As he heard the flat door open, the blond froze. He didn't know how long it had been, but there was really no other person it could have been. John heard his name and stood quickly, careful not to slip on the shiny floor and ran at the vampire. Before he could even think his hands and arms were wrapped around the taller mans neck, pulling him down in a tight hug. "I swear to god, I'm going to kill you," he whispered fiercely into the vampire’s ear, though there was no conviction behind his tone. He pulled back and looked at the vampire, making sure he was alright. "Are you okay? Sane again?"

 

Sherlock had expected, shouting, anger and violence from the human, not the sudden hug. He had thought his friend was going to punch him or try and strangle him when he came forward with his arms outstretched. He braced himself, knowing he deserved it, but none came. "John?" He asked again, confused. He wrapped his arms around the human out of shock and held him close, feeling the man's steady heart beat thud in his chest. "I'm sane, yes. I'm so sorry. Mycroft is fine. I shouldn't have tried to pin the blame on you." He apologized, looking down. "This is all my fault."

 

John shook his head. "This no ones fault but the people's who poisoned the blood," he said firmly, hands now holding onto Sherlock’s neck. There was still a rather large height difference, and Sherlock’s skin was cool to the touch, but he was still Sherlock. To have Sherlock speaking full sentences again seemed like a miracle, and for the first time since Sherlock turning John had a glimmer of a wish that the vampire’s eyes were blue once more.

 

Sherlock bowed his head and swallowed thickly. "Thank you." He brushed his nose against the man's cheek. He felt better with John close and being in the man's arms. It comforted him along with his scent and heartbeat. It was all distinctly John. Gunpowder, wool and tea, and that wasn't even describing his blood. "I wish this never happened. I wish I was still human. I wouldn't have killed my brother and you. I wouldn't be a monster." He choked out, burying his face in John's shoulder.

 

John stiffened as Sherlock’s head ducked down to be by his throat. Yes, Sherlock was back to being normal, but, he was still a vampire. "I know," he said carefully, stepping away and trying to catch Sherlock’s eye. "But it has, and you-" he paused. Sherlock wasn’t a monster, "-and you happen to have urges." He had goose bumps on his collar; Sherlock’s skin was too cool, not natural. "So we have to be careful." His heart was stuttering, and he was slightly uncomfortable. He was technically the lamb, and Sherlock was the lion.

 

Sherlock felt the human stiffen and pull away. His heart beat slightly faster and Sherlock could practically taste the fear in the air when he licked his lips. John insisted he didn't think he was a monster yet there the man was, saying they had to be careful and freezing and stepping back when he got too close. Although he didn't say it, the human was scared of him and Sherlock knew it. Sherlock looked away and turned wandering down the hall and shutting himself in his room. He had said what he had needed to say and now he just wanted to be alone.

 

As Sherlock wandered down to his room, John had an almost irresistible urge to apologize, though, for what for, he was unsure. "Sorry," he murmured, though it was probably far too late and Sherlock wouldn't hear him. It was as if the vampire knew the exact reason he had pulled back. And he hadn't meant to start becoming afraid, yet, here he was. Like an instinct. With a grumble John went back to his floor scrubbing, needing to get the rest of the cleaning done before he went to bed.

 

Sherlock shook his head sadly and whispered softly to himself after hearing the human apologize. "No you're not." And that was just it. John would never feel as comfortable as he did when Sherlock was human, he would always treat Sherlock like a freak and something to be afraid of. Sherlock was destined to live a life of being called a freak and treated as such; at least he had Mycroft with him. His brother's company was better than none at all. Sherlock thought sometimes he should just walk into the sun and be done with it. It would spare his flat mate the hassle of trying to hide his mistrust and disapproval of Sherlock.

 

The cleaning had been done, yet, John didn't want to go to sleep. How could he? Sherlock was there in his room probably feeling sorry for himself. John couldn't allow his flat mate to feel so down. It wasn't fair. It wasn't Sherlock’s fault he'd been following a case of vampire attacks, he hadn't even known until it was too late. John had been staring at a mug for a little while now, unsure if Sherlock would be offended if he did or not. But, what could it do to harm him? It would be like... Donating blood. Almost. Slightly more dangerous. And, Sherlock might get really pissed. If the vampire did get annoyed he could just throw it out. It wasn't a huge lot. Just a cup. Sherlock hadn't consumed too much from his brother... He might still be... John got up with a huff, going to the drawer and getting a huge knife. He sat back down and took a steeling breath. He then held his Hand over the mug and drew the knife across his palm with a little wince. If Sherlock didn't want it he could just throw it out... When the mug was almost full his blood had clotted twice, he had to reopen the cut, but now it was fine. He found a bandage quickly and wrapped his hand, now taking the mug with a thick swallow and walking quickly to Sherlock’s door. He knocked on the door with the uninjured hand and his right didn't actually feel that bad. "Sherlock I made you a cuppa," he said, as if it were just tea in the mug and not his life force.

 

Sherlock was lying on the floor and looking under his bed. He had hidden his stash under a loose floor board and was in the process of retrieving it when John knocked on the door. His first instinct would be to shout 'go away' at him, but the thing the human said made him a little angry. John knew he didn't drink tea or eat human food anymore. He'd probably just made one out of habit but it still annoyed him to no end. Pushing himself off the floor, he went over to the door and threw it open. Eyes landing on the blond and the smell of his blood assaulting his nose, Sherlock's eyes dilated fully, taking over the whites. He looked demonic as he stared at the cup.  "What are you doing?" He mumbled, focusing on the roof rather than the man. John was treading on thin ice. He was jus tempting fate. If he was so scared of him he shouldn't be offering him a mug full of blood. The vampire's fangs appeared and he couldn't help the step he took towards his friend. He couldn't hurt him; John would kill him or leave if he hurt him. 

 

John kept himself relaxed and calm as Sherlock seemed to become almost animal in appearance. "I thought you might want something to drink," he said, as if it really was just tea. Sherlock had just said he had wanted it to be as if nothing had happened, so here they were. He took calm measured breaths to keep calm, as if he were in the battlefield. "Do you want it? I'll just throw it out if you don’t; I'm not really in the mood for a drink." The blond smiled slightly at his own words.

 

Sherlock's eyes flicked to the man's bandaged hand holding the blood and nodded. "Thank you for the blood, John. I appreciate your efforts to return to normal, but I'm a vampire. It will never be the same again." He murmured, taking the blood and smiling slightly. "We can't pretend things are normal. We tried and failed, it's not going to work." The vampire's eyes cleared and he leant into the human, ghosting his nose over the man's throat. "You are scared of me. Were you scared of me when I was human?" Sherlock pulled away and turned toward his room.

 

John made an indignant noise. "Excuse you. I am definitely not scared of you. Not when you were human for sure, and not now." Despite the brave face, he froze when Sherlock's mouth was near his throat. He smiled now, doing exactly what he would do in a normal situation once Sherlock had pulled back. He turned and started walking back to the kitchen, leaving the vampire to his own devices.

 

Sherlock snorted without humor and downed the blood. He knew John was scared of him; he just needed the man to admit it to himself. He silently moved behind the man and pushed him against the wall, wrists pinned the wall. "You are terrified of me. You think I'm a beast. Nothing more than a blood drinking monster. I can see it in your eyes." He growled, leaning down and licking up the man's neck. He let his fangs graze across the pulse point. He just wanted John to admit it. They couldn't live normally if he was terrified of him.

 

John let out a squawk. He stood stock still, but only because Sherlock was so close, not because he was scared. "Pretty much the same as when you were human," he replied nonchalantly, and was surprised by the steadiness of his own words. "You know, affinity with blood, pale skin," he stiffened impossibly further as he felt a cool tongue trail along his neck, "no account for personal space."

 

"You're lying. But, you can continue to delude yourself. I have a baby vampire to take care of and whoever poisoned the blood to kill." He sighed, drawing away from the human with a pout. He quickly made his way to the door and pulled on his coat. He glanced at his friend, still against the wall and rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, John." It was a few seconds before he popped back in. "Actually, let's go. Could be dangerous." And he disappeared again.  

 

John shook his arms out, getting the tense feeling in his gut as the vampire disappeared. He grinned at the vampire’s choice of words, he'd heard them before. He ran to the door and grabbed his coat, closing the door behind him after he had it on. He went quickly down the stairs. He caught up to the vampire, and though the words about killing someone twisted his gut he was almost smiling. This was normal, this was what they did. "You do know it's about midnight right?" He asked, trying to keep up with Sherlock’s long legs.

 

Sherlock looked back and smiled when he saw his friend following. He slowed down to let the man catch up. Sherlock was a thousand times faster than the human now. "So? We always run around at all hours of the night; and one of us is a vampire. I'm nocturnal and we are going to see Mycroft who is now also nocturnal. Thank you for coming." He grinned. They were almost at his brother's flat. He was only slightly concerned for the man's safety in the presence of a baby vampire, but he was sure he'd be able to protect him. 

 

John let out a huff. He wasn't used to Sherlock throwing 'thank you', around, and he wasn't really sure how to reply, as Sherlock had just been by his throat. "It's not too much of a choice, just like normal." It was almost like he emphasized the word, as if normalcy was key. "I might have to change my body clock," he murmured to himself. If they were going to only be doing night cases now, he might as well become nocturnal in a sense.

 

Sherlock snorted at the word normal and the emphasis bit didn't comment on it in particular. He was more focused on John changing his schedule for the vampire. "You don't have to do anything for me, John. You can continue at your job and get a good night sleep too. I'll almost always be up in the flat so you'll see me." He chuckled as he skipped up the stairs and pushed open the door of Mycroft's flat. He looked around for the man and sighed. Dealing with him was either going to be really easy or really difficult. He was betting on difficult.

 

John found himself walking right behind the vampire into the luxurious flat, actually gripping the taller man’s coat so he didn't fall behind. His heart rate picked up as they entered the dark home, and the blond was right on edge. He looked around but his eyes couldn't see, and he felt like prey. He probably was, but Sherlock would protect him, so he needn't worry.

 

Sherlock reached back to snag John's hand with his and gave it a squeeze. He couldn't have the human getting lost and letting the other vampire know he was there. So, Sherlock lead him through the flat, as he listened for his brother. He was given very little warning when the vampire came from no where and dove for John. The auburn haired man was intercepted mid-air by Sherlock, and threw him to the ground with a snarl. Sherlock maneuvered him out of the way and calmly bent down to help his brother up. "John blood no." He growled lowly.

 

The hunger was terrible. Worse than anything the elder Holmes had ever tasted before. "Please," he whined, voice raspy and thick. He knew, somewhere inside him, that killing John was not the answer, but he was struggling slightly against his brother’s arms. He was right there, fresh blood, he could taste it, smell it. Consume. "Now," he snarled, trying at his brothers arms again as he forced his way closer to John.

 

The human let out a squawk, backing up until a wall stopped his retreat. His gaze flicked cautiously to the detective, not sure how they were going to do this.

 

Sherlock held his brother slightly tighter and shook his head. Only a few words at a time would get through to him so that's exactly how Sherlock spoke. "No. John family." He started, rubbing soothing circles over Mycroft's back. "No John blood." He murmured firmly. "Sherlock blood yes." He sighed, holding his arm up for the new vampire to latch onto. Sherlock looked to the human against the wall and beckoned him closer. "He has to get used to you." He explained, squeezing his brother gently when he felt his struggles increase. "No!"

 

Mycroft bite hard down on Sherlock’s wrist, sucking and licking at the thick warm substance. But it had already been consumed. It wasn't fresh. And he could see the fresh pulsing under the skin of the human’s neck and he was right there. Because his stupid younger brother was not letting him get the fresh, he bided his time by draining the older blood almost completely, eyes trained on the blond with a fierce intensity. The vampire knew that this blood was the older type of the man’s in front of him. This blood tasted good, that blood would taste even better.

 

"I don't know if that's a great idea," John murmured, feeling like he was under scrutiny by the way Mycroft was looking at him. The gaze was animal, ferocious, and for the first time in his life, John was somewhat scared of Mycroft Holmes.

 

Sherlock had realized his mistake a second too late. He'd been so caught up in protecting his friend and restraining Mycroft, he hadn't paid attention to how much the new vampire was taking. He only planned to give him a little and then feed him bagged blood while John was near to get him used to the scent. Sherlock's grip slackened as his strength failed and he cursed. "Mycroft, no! John is not food!" He yelled in a last ditch effort to stop his older brother. "Please."

 

His brother’s tone made him hesitate, though while he stood still he vibrated with pent up potential. He licked his bottom lip, getting the last of the blood. He flicked his gaze between the two people so quickly his bright red irises were a blur. He didn't know who to listen to. Himself, or his brother.

 

John leant almost all his weight on the wall, breathing in gasps. Mycroft was going to kill him; he was going to get drained by a diplomat, how very boring. He closed his eyes, just waiting for the feeling of teeth piercing his flesh, but none came. He opened his eyes slowly, and what he saw made him gape. Mycroft had almost completely composed himself, apart from the insistent hand movements and the wicked glint in his eye. The fact his lips were still blood red also made it not as normal as it could be. John felt like he should speak, then again, his mouth probably wouldn't make words.

 

Sherlock leant heavily against the wall in an attempt to regain some of his strength. He bit his lip and groaned softly. He could hear the frantic pounding of his flat mate’s heart, smell the fear and could practically taste the blood rushing through his veins. It was a bit not good. He should have seen this happening, should have done it differently. He thought Mycroft would pounce immediately once Sherlock's grip fell, but when the detective looked up and he saw the new vampire just hovering on the edge yet looking far more composed he sighed in relief. "Myc, come here please. I'll get you some blood. We can hunt together. Just don't hurt John. John's family, you can't hurt family." He spoke softly, hoping, desperately the vampire would listen. Sherlock turned his attention to his friend. "If he tries anything, run." 

 

John nodded but he frowned. "You're not hunting anyone," he said, his eyes determined. "I will not let you go and hurt anybody." He felt like he should be running now, but he couldn't leave the two vampires to create havoc.

 

Mycroft was so tense he was sure he'd snap, Sherlock was speaking but so was John and he had to taste. Mycroft twitched but didn't say anything. John was family. They didn’t hurt family.

 

Sherlock moved forward slowly, lethargy starting to set in. "Myc, come on. Let's go into the kitchen, okay?" He murmured, tugging on the older man's sleeve. He needed to get his attention away from John before he snapped. "I never said hunting humans, John." Sherlock snapped back at the doctor, angry at him for thinking he would kill someone just to feed himself. It was too much of a risk and not worth the effort.

 

The older vampire nodded blankly, following his brother but keeping his eyes fixed on the human. Fresh. Blood. "Why can't I?" He asked softly, even though he knew why he couldn't. "Please Sherlock," he said, as they entered the kitchen and left food behind  the lounge.

 

John’s eyebrows creased. He should be allowed to assume that blood drinking creatures would prefer human blood without said blood drinking creatures getting annoyed. He went to the closest armchair; it had been completely shredded by a desperate new vampire, and flopped into it.

 

Sherlock sighed in frustration. He didn't know what to do. Honestly he was lost. If it wasn't for the poison, none of this would have happened, but he couldn't dwell on the past. He had to focus on what he was going to do. He could let his brother feed on John or take the new vampire out to feed on the humans in the streets. He didn't trust any bagged blood and if his brother didn't get fresh human blood he would go mad. Sherlock sat down and let his face drop into his hands. It was all his fault. Sherlock was frustrated at himself and John, the human wasn't helping being there with two hungry vampires.

 

Mycroft was pacing, letting out multiple hisses and little growls. He was so hungry, there was food just around the corner and he 'wasn't allowed'. He looked at Sherlock with harsh eyes. "Go ask him," he spat, nodding towards the door. "Please."

 

Sherlock looked up and frowned. "I can't ask that of him. He is a friend. He isn't food, Mycroft. How can I just ask him that?" He stood and moved over to steady the pacing man. He needed him calm and in control if they were going to do it. "Listen to me. If I let you do this you will not kill him. If you do I will lock you up and you will never get human blood again." Sherlock couldn't ask him, but he could ‘accidentally’ let Mycroft go. Say in his weakened state the man managed to overpower him.

 

Mycroft hummed, eyes flashing. "Of course brother dearest," he said in a sickly sweet voice, canines growing down. "I would never drain him fully." He paused, tilting his head. "Do you want him changed?" A clear serum dripped from Mycroft’s canines. "It's the least I could do..."

 

"No. Do not change him and do _not_ kill him. I am not bluffing, Mycroft. I will make you suffer. Now, hit me." He growled lowly, eyes flashing dangerously in response to the other's. He prepared himself for the blow and calculated how long it would take for Mycroft to feed enough and him to pull him off.

 

"Gladly," was the word almost sung as the fist came and struck Sherlock under the jaw. The new vampire crowed, spinning around and rushing into the lounge. "Relax," Mycroft hummed, zooming forward and pinning John under him. The human yelled out, squirmed and starting to pant immediately

 

"Please," John was able to sob out. He was going to die. He was going to die. "Mycroft." He felt the teeth cut into his neck, and he cried out, eyes welling up. "Sherlock!!" He screamed, but he couldn't move and he was pinned and he was going to die.

 

The blood was delicious, like honey, but more sating. Mycroft took slow breaths in as he took in the blood, humming.

 

Sherlock's head snapped back and his jaw cracked. He stumbled, hitting the wall and for a moment he thought he would fall unconscious from the sheer force of the blow. He grabbed the counter and took a few deep breaths. He felt guilt stab into him at the smell of blood and the human's scream, but he pushed it down along with the jealousy of his brother getting to taste his friend before Sherlock and the burning desire to join his brother in feeding. He shook his head and winced slightly. He counted to ten slowly and ran into the lounge. He tore Mycroft off his friend and threw him against the wall. He was fed and no longer going to go mad with bloodlust. He licked John's neck closed and looked into his eyes with concern. "John? I'm so sorry. I was weakened and he overpowered me. Are you alright?" He asked, genuine concern mixed with him keeping up the ruse. 

 

John was trembling terribly, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. His life had flashed before his eyes and he was certain he was about to faint. Sherlock was close. Too close. He had touched the blood with his tongue. He had that look in his eye. He was going to drain him, just like his brother almost did. "Get away," he said quickly, curling in on himself. "Just... Stand by your brother for a moment, I need to-" he closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. He needed to compose himself.

 

Mycroft licked his teeth, taking slow unnecessary breaths as he watched the human, feeling pleased and full. He beckoned Sherlock over with a smug smile. Of course he felt guilty, but John would get over it. It seemed like he already was in a sense. He had been able to survive with a vampire as a flat mate.

 

Sherlock silently obeyed and was standing by his brother like a child that had been put in time out. He leant against the wall, thinking about what he'd just done, what he'd let his brother do. His red eyes flicked to the matching ones of his brother and he sighed. There was no emotion behind it; it was just a means of letting out some of his stress. Sherlock did something he could only do with his brother and only because they were now bonded through blood twice. 'Stop looking so smug. I don't know how this will end if he sees you looking pleased with yourself.' He thought to his brother, the telepathy he knew he possessed coming in handy now he had another vampire to test it on. He didn’t know for sure if it would work, but he had heard rumors 'Did you enjoy sucking the life from him?'

 

Mycroft made his face into a mask. 'Its nice being in control, and the taste was pleasant. I might have killed him, but I would have felt guilty, rest assured.' He was hardly surprised that vampire’s held this ability. It would come in handy for hunts. The vampire blinked slowly, watching the human. He was sorting himself out rather quickly.

 

This was a battlefield. He needed to stay calm. He could have died. He was not dead. All was well. He was alive. Sherlock had saved him. Mycroft was desperate.

John was chanting a mantra in his mind, taking slow deep breaths as he tried not to move. His neck was aching, seeing as it had just been pierced, that was understandable.

 

Sherlock turned his attention to John, watching him pick up the pieces and move on. 'He can never know I let you. I don't want to lose him. You will never mention that I allowed you to attack him and feed from him.' There was an underlying threat from the younger vampire. Sherlock wouldn't know what to do without John. He thought about what would happen if the man did figure it out. How would he react? Was it worth it? Letting Mycroft feed from his best friend? Sherlock shook away those thoughts and focused on John. 'I'm sorry I turned you.'

 

John saw the elder Holmes shrug slightly, and he could assume that they were conversing somehow. Sherlock seemed like he was bordering on some sort of lividness or worry, the blond wasn't sure. He shuffled slightly in the seat, now bringing one hand up to rub his neck with a wince. It was like the ache was spreading. John tapped his foot. He wanted to go home, but he didn’t want to leave Mycroft on his own. He'd probably hunt down some humans or something.

 

'It could not be helped. Though I'll have to resign I suppose.' That thought was slightly dry. He wouldn't be able to keep his job. How would he be able to do everything? There was no way. 'As long and you and John are safe it is fine.' There was a small pause. 'Is John safe with you?'

 

Sherlock sighed aloud and rubbed his face. Everything had gone wrong it such a short time. 'You don't need to resign. I'll teach you control and we will figure this out.' Sherlock promised, feeling suddenly guilty for killing his brother and everything he'd done to John. He sat down on the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. He looked to John and a fresh stab of guilt went through him as the man rubbed his neck. 'I don't know... Do you think he's safe with me?' He asked his brother, looking up at him. He sighed and looked away. "Are you okay, John? I'm truly sorry. For everything." He murmured. Sherlock knew he wanted to go home. He would need to take Mycroft with him.

 

"Does it look like I'm fucking okay?" He muttered, but just because he had to say something to someone and he couldn't say anything kind. "It's fine," he snapped, standing up with a wince. "I just want to go home, have some tea, and I'm bloody pleased I've put those drugs out of sight." The thought spiked a cruel feeling in his gut. "If I ever fucking see you with drugs again I will punch you in the head." He growled, limping over to the door. "Come on, I'm not walking alone in the dark."

 

Sherlock flinched but nodded. He stood and beckoned for Mycroft to follow. He wasn't leaving the vampire alone when he'd had a taste of human blood. "Home sounds good." He murmured, following his flat mate out the door and checking to see if his brother was following. "John? I won't use again. I swear. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you." He whispered, head bowed as he silently and gracefully walked beside his brother. The vampire still felt like a scolded child and had been banned from something like ice cream.

 

John scoffed. "I know you won't use again. If you do you won't be allowed in the flat." He curled his lip, not pleased that his limp was working up. "And I know you couldn't protect me, that's obvious, but that has finished. You don't need to keep apologizing." He would have to turn his neck to look at Sherlock, but he didn't want to aggravate the piercing.

 

Sherlock fell silent for the rest of the way. There was nothing to say. As soon as they got home, Sherlock flopped into his chair and Mycroft sat down on the couch. The vampires watched the human move about the flat. It was silent apart from the quiet mutterings as John made himself tea. It was eerie how the two moved at the same time and unblinking red eyes focused on the human. 'Perhaps you should have turned him.' 

 

'Neither you nor he would forgive me', Mycroft drawled in reply. 'It would only serve to create more hassle.' The vampire sat still like a statue.

 

John got half through making a tea when he looked into the lounge, starting at the sight of the two vampires watching him. "You know what?" He asked irritably, "I'm going to bed. Don't wait up." He glared at the pair as he walked past them, leaving the half made tea on the bench. He'd be in pain tomorrow too, because of all this animalistic hullabaloo.

 

Sherlock hummed in response to the vampires words and nodded. It was true, John would never forgive either of them if Mycroft had turned him and it would just be more work. He watched the man limp up the stairs and let his head fall back against the couch. Why did everything have to go to shit? 'So, brother mine, are your plans for your work?' Vampires didn't sleep rather they fell into a state that was similar to death in appearance. It was the time the body worked to process blood and regenerate any injuries.

 

Mycroft sniffed. 'I don't know. People will get suspicious if I start to hold meetings in the night. Lestrade for one would be on me like a dog. Did you know he was following me around?' The vampire narrowed his eyes slightly.

 

John fell onto his bed and let out a small cry as his neck was jostled. Bloody vampires!

 

Sherlock snorted and smirked. 'I did notice him lurking on more than one occasion. Perhaps you could just frighten him enough he'll leave you alone. If we work on it I'm sure there is a way for us to go out in the sun. Sunscreen of the highest protection may work; I've yet to try it.' The cry made him look up and tense, realizing it was only the movement. Sherlock sighed and stood. 'Let's go to bed. I will not have you out here where I can't see you. I'd prefer to make sure John is safe and other humans.'

 

'At least buy me a drink first,' drawled Mycroft’s thoughts, but he stood and began to follow his brother, his footsteps silent and careful. 'I assume we sleep then? Not like every myth ever where we're awake all the time?' Mycroft could smell John, and his mouth would have watered. Always smelling so delectable.

 

Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes. 'I already did.' He said as he gestured towards the ceiling where John's room was. Sherlock didn't feel guilty any longer. He and Mycroft were monsters, they didn't have to feel. 'Not exactly. It's more like a regenerative coma. Tomorrow we'll work on going out in the sun. We could start now, but I prefer it if John is awake.' 

 

Mycroft gave a stiff nod, and caught the end of a thought passing through his younger brother’s mind. Every instinct caused him to put a hand on the taller boy’s shoulder. 'Don't become soulless', he sent to his brother, looking at the vampire in the eyes and keeping his gaze. "We are not monsters." He said those words. They were important, they needed to be said, not just thought.

 

Sherlock held his gaze and opted to speak aloud in answer rather than silent communication. "There is no point in caring or feeling anymore. It is never received well as you saw before. How are we not monsters? I allowed you to feed from John. I could have asked him or found another solution, but no. I let you pin him down, tear into his neck and take his blood as I pretended to be incapable of helping him. I wanted to join you as you drained him and listen to his screams turn to weak cries."

 

"But you didn't. You are not as animal as you seem to think yourself as. What you did in my home was you trying to keep your brother from killing your friend. It was the quickest, safest option. John is mad, he does not know about your actual state during the attack, and he never will. What you did was particularly human, brotherly compassion. You are not a monster." He was being the most genuine he could with his brother, making sure that what he was saying was getting through to him.

 

Sherlock bowed his head, knowing his brother's words were the most sincere and genuine he'd ever heard from the man. He smiled sadly and looked at Mycroft with tears of blood in his eyes that matched the color of his irises. "I don't know what to do anymore. It's like there is nothing left for me here. I can't pursue my passions to the fullest now I'm a vampire, I can barely control the urge to tear through my flat mate and friend. I can't go to crime scenes that are too bloody and Lestrade will soon start to notice. I'm lost, Myc." He choked out, his throat closing up.

 

Mycroft pulled his brother into one of the few hugs he often gave. Not only were the blood tears unnerving, he also didn't want to see his brother cry. "We'll get through this," the elder Holmes said, gripping the back of Sherlock’s neck. "But we know you won't hurt John. And Gregory might start to understand this; John was able to meld into the life of living with a vampire. We might be able to introduce him to the idea."

 

Sherlock relaxed into the embrace, he felt safe in his brother's arms. He nodded in agreement and pulled away. "Perhaps Lestrade will warm up to the idea. Come on, I think we should get at least some sleep before the sun rises." He turned towards his room and quickly shed his jacket and shoes, before climbing under the covers.

 

Mycroft smiled, but didn't want to share the bed with his brother. He may care for him but they were adults, not lovers. He smirked as an idea came to mind. "Do you think I could sleep standing up?" He asked, looking at his brother. "Or upside down?"

 

Sherlock cracked an eye open and stared up at the other vampire. He felt a spark of curiosity and pushed himself out of the bed. "I don't see why not." He smiled. It was like he had a new experiment to do or another clue in a case. The feeling spread through him and he couldn't contain his excitement. "Here, to get on the ceiling just jump and then we can both hang upside down. I've walked around up here before but I haven't tried sleeping." The vampire bent his legs and managed to hook his hands over the single rafter. He swung up onto it.  He grinned from his place on the ceiling, hanging down and swinging his arms. "I can pull you up?" 

 

Mycroft gave a grin. "Excuse you," he sniffed as if extremely offended. Without any warning the vampire sprung upwards, grabbing onto the rafter holding the roof up. He kicked his legs onto it, looking down to his brother. "I knew there were some advantages to this," he smirked.

 

Sherlock hung beside the man and chuckled. "It has its advantages but the novelty of it will wear off...or it might not.’ Having another vampire around seems to have rekindled a love of bounding around like a child and driving John up the wall. He hasn't seen me on the ceiling yet, I'm sure he'll appreciate it if we walk around like this tomorrow." He sighed and closed his eyes. "Oh, and you don't have to worry about Mrs. Hudson finding out, she already knows. I lost control when John was out and went to find the nearest human blood. She took one look at me and told me to 'march right back up those stairs.'

 

Mycroft swung slightly next to his brother, and with no blood to run to his head, the feeling wasn’t unpleasant. "That housekeeper of yours is a remarkable woman," Mycroft said slowly, smiling at the thought of a raging vampire stomping up flat stairs to the stern glare of the mothering woman. "And tomorrow I think we should wait for John to check on us like this. It would be rather amusing don't you think?"

 

Sherlock hummed and began to swing as well. "She truly is. I'll never forget how she stopped me. The words she used, 'Don't even think about it, young man' and 'I will throw garlic at you.' And...she's not my housekeeper." He recited the phrases with a fond look on his face. It was something he'd never forget. "John's reaction would be spectacular. Fancy a little bet, brother dearest?"

 

Mycroft snorted at Mrs. Hudson's antics, but his eyes flashed even further at the mention of a bet. "Of course, I'm always up for a little wager brother mine." He practically purred, letting his arms drop down as he hung limply. This was a rather comfortable position, the more he thought about it.

 

Sherlock grinned and flashed his fangs. "Whoever can act like the most cliché vampire wins. Bonus points if you annoy John while doing so." Sherlock suggested, glancing at the door. "Starting now." He snickered and folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

 

Mycroft actually laughed. He flashed his fangs also. "I vwant to suck you bloood?" He asked. "Also I need a cape." He closed his eyes. Was this comatose state like falling asleep? Or was there a process? He would soon find out.

 

Sherlock laughed at the thought of running about with a cape and acting like an idiot. It was exciting and he was glad he had his brother to 'play' with now he was a vampire. "Say that to John tomorrow." He chuckled and soon he was dead to the world.

 

It happened like a blink, more than falling asleep and waking up. Mycroft closed his eyes, all was dark, and suddenly, there was a yell and a curse that made him open his eyes. The curtains were still closed, he was somewhat hungry, and there was food there. Wait. No. That was John. Not food.

 

The blond let out a yell, scrambling back as he saw the two men hanging on the ceiling like bats. "What the fuck?!" He called out, backing slowly into the hall. This was weird. He had just woken up and made tea, he hadn’t expected that.

 

Sherlock opened his eyes at the yell and chuckled. "Morning John!" He called to the retreating human. He turned to his brother and smiled. He pushed him and watched as he tumbled onto the bed, bouncing when he hit it. "Morning to you too, Mycroft." He chuckled, letting himself fall onto the bed next to his brother. Sherlock hummed and let his fangs appear. "Hungry?"

 

Mycroft nodded and bent his legs, leaping off the bed to the ground as he walked forward, tilting his head as he approached John. "I vwant to suck your bloood!" He said dramatically, holding up his arm as if he were masking himself with a cape. He then straightened up and laughed, back rod straight and back to normal. "I don't actually." He laughed, before going back to the crouched pose and brushing past the human with a hiss.

 

John was pale, looking quizzically after Mycroft, then turning to Sherlock with a half stifled yawn. "What the hell was that?" He asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

 

Sherlock had barely contained his laughter through the entire ordeal. He bounced off the bed and set about looking for the cape he'd bought for an occasion that had yet to present itself. Now he had a reason to wear it. Sherlock emerged from the room with the cape drawn about him. He hissed at John then flung the cape wide and disappeared. He settled next to Mycroft and silently grinned at the human's reaction. 'Your move, brother mine.'

 

Mycroft let out a huff from his nose. He moved so he was right by the door, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest like he was in a coffin. He waited, keen ears listening to the oncoming footsteps.

 

John let out little swears. What the hell was going on?! He opened the door to the kitchen, prepared to give some vampires a good telling off, but a certain diplomat was in the way. Any noises melted down in John’s throat as those eyes slowly opened, but Mycroft didn't say anything. He just stared, red eyes hollow and blank. John scoffed, though it was started like a squeak, and he shut the door immediately again, trying not to spill his drink. Maybe he would just go back to bed.

 

Sherlock was practically giggling as he watched from the living room. It was just too funny seeing John look so confused and a little scared; and that squeak! The younger vampire saw John start to move up the stairs and he ditched his cape, launched himself at the ceiling and started crawling after him. He let his eyes glow red and his fangs to appear as he crawled upside down after the human. His reaction would be priceless, after this they probably should give it a rest and work on something else, just to give John some time to calm down and get ready for the next round.

 

John thought he heard a noise, and turned, but couldn't see anything. Then from the ceiling he saw movement. He looked up and fell against the wall, a loud swear falling from his lips as he barely managed to not spill his drink. He stood straight as soon as he could, fists clenched at his sides. "Enough!" He said, eyes sparking. "Get down from the bloody roof and stop doing what you're doing, both of you."

 

Mycroft heard the noise and came into the hall, frowning. "It was just a little fun John," he said, eyes watching carefully.

 

"I don't care," the human snapped. "You are not on the menu in this household; your life isn't in danger. Now stop this fuckery this instant I swear to god..."

 

Sherlock composed himself and dropped to the floor. He again felt like a scolded child as he stood next to his brother. "Forgive us, John. You aren't on the menu we know. We were just having a little fun. We'll stay out of you way." He said softly as he turned away from the human and moved towards the kitchen. He hoped they had some clean untainted blood otherwise John very well might end up on the menu. 'How long do you think you can last without blood? We might have a long wait.' He warned his brother. He could feel himself deflating slightly. They shouldn’t have done this.

 

A spike of guilt went through John’s chest. He followed after his flat mate, quickly apologizing. "I'm sorry alright? I don't want to die prematurely." He let out a small breath. "It would be funny if you were human, but I almost shat my pants so it's not okay." He forced a smile, going to the bench. "Would you two like one?" He asked with only a slight bit of hesitation. He had felt tired after only a mug of blood had been filled, would he be able to do two?

 

Mycroft scoffed. "Very amusing John, but you and I both know we can't drink tea." He came into the kitchen after his brother, and tilted his head. 'I don't know. I'm feeling rather tetchy and irritable, so maybe a few more hours?'

 

Sherlock shook his head. "No don't be sorry. We were being childish and, for give the pun, preying on the fact that you are the only human here. We should be sorry… and we are, truly." Sherlock said sincerely, turning his head away from the man and looking at his brother. He quickly assessed the older vampire, seeing the signs of hunger but knowing they had a few hours at the most before it became too much. He almost missed what John was offering and his eyes widened. "John, no. You can't. You've already lost so much. I don't want you to lose anymore."

 

"Better me voluntarily then someone involuntarily and so much they die." The blond shrugged, looking between the pair of creatures. "It's not hard, I'll just call in sick for work and..." He trailed off slightly, shrugging again as he stirred his teacup.

 

Mycroft frowned. "He's done this before?" It was rather obvious, seeing as John was so easily offering the idea. He asked, walking over to be right beside his brother. "Won't he faint from lack of blood?" He narrowed his eyes at the younger vampire. 'You let me feed from him when he was already low?' He thought roughly.

 

"We wouldn't kill the person… and we can't go out right now. Don't we have any blood in the bags? It couldn't have all been poisoned." Sherlock argued. He couldn't have his friend sacrificing any more than he already had. "It's too much and you will be unable to do anything for a while. You'd need a transfusion." Sherlock looked at his brother and cursed. "It was once and not that recently." 'You feeding from him didn't have that big of an impact. He would have been fine if I let you continue feeding for a minute.'

 

Mycroft scoffed internally. 'Some flat mate you are brother mine, he has already done so much for you.' Mycroft shook his head slightly, watching his brother with an unimpressed look in his eyes.

 

John looked at the pair of vampires again and tilted his head. They were having a silent conversation again. While they were doing whatever they were doing, John brought out two more mugs and the knife he had used last night. "Look, there is about twenty five to thirty mug amounts of blood inside the average person if we think of the amount of blood in a person. I'm sure four and a bit won't harm me." He shrugged, taking a sip of his tea and glancing up to the vampires.

 

'Not long ago you were telling me I had done what was best for the both of you. I did what I had to do to keep you from going mad and making sure John wouldn't suffer too greatly.' The younger vampire hissed in his mind and turned back to the human. "Do not open a vein for us, John. I don't want you to get hurt." He said firmly and then he spun and stormed into the living room where he flopped down on his chair. "You have done too much for me already. I'm sorry." He looked away and clenched his teeth.

 

Mycroft let out a long sigh. 'It is safest, this choice also. I don't know if I'd be able to control myself in a situation where I had to drink straight from a living being.' Mycroft turned to John. "I will not protest if you insist on this. Your logic on this is sound." He gave a sharp nod.

 

John looked at the cut on his palm, still red under the bandage but otherwise not painful. "It doesn't hurt too much," John called to the man in the lounge. He waited for a reply, he didn't really want to annoy Sherlock too much. But really this was the best option.

 

"It is not how much it hurts you, John that affects me. It's how much damage you are doing by continuing to go ahead with a plan that will only feed to vampire's for a short amount of time and you only just said you had no desire to be part of the menu; right next to fresh and poisoned bagged. What an honor." He bit out. The mid morning sun was shining through a crack in the curtains and he was reminded of the experiments he had to do. He needed to figure out how he was going to get back in the sun. 'It is only temporary, the blood will sate you for a few hours and then it will come back, twice as strong.'

 

John hesitated, letting out a huff and putting the knife down. "Check the bloody bags for poison then," he bit out, going into the lounge with his drink and sitting down heavily in his own chair. "I was just trying to make it easier for you two to be around me." He was going to be a part of the menu anyway, he was human, they were vampire. He might as well be on the menu willingly.

 

"Alright, fine," Mycroft drawled, going to the fridge and taking out a couple of bags, "How do we check them?" 'Now look what you've done you've offended him good going Sherlock.'

 

Sherlock didn't answer either of them. He was completely blank and emotionless on the outside...but on the inside he was a storm of anger, frustration, despair and hate, mostly directed at himself. He wasn't hungry, he didn't want his flat mate's or any other human's blood. He wanted to just end everyone's suffering. If he did at least John wouldn't be in danger and nor would any other human, at least not from him. The vampire had contemplated it multiple times but never actually went through with it. He silently stood and walked towards the curtains. The sunlight could do that for everyone. And he was empty, pointless. Maybe this was the best option.

 

John’s eyes widened hugely. "What are you doing?" He asked, standing suddenly and walking over to where Sherlock was walking. He grabbed the curtains and held them shut with one hand. "What are you doing?" He asked again, holding his tea up to Sherlock with an unamused glare. "Are you trying to die? I don't think vampires and sunlight mix."

 

"John... it'd be better if I did. Then I won't hurt you and you would never end up as a meal." Sherlock looked straight at the human and past him to the bright sunlight outside. "Vampires and sunlight are the perfect mix. It will solve all of our problems. Thank you, John. For putting up with me." He took another step towards the curtains and gripped them tightly.

 

John let out a squawk, shaking his head and holding them closed. "Are you stupid?! You're being thick. Jesus. Sherlock, stop, go sit back down. I'm not dealing with a suicidal vampire." His tone was one he used specifically for orders, and he glared at Sherlock. "Now, Sherlock Holmes."

 

Mycroft had heard the interaction from the kitchen and was currently sending an onslaught of thought to his younger brother. 'No, stop, Sherlock, don't do this, please, Sherlock, no, stop.' He sped into the kitchen, and didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Sherlock’s waist and pull him away from the curtain.

 

Sherlock stared past the human, eyes faraway. "I don't want any of this, not anymore." He murmured, ignoring the firm words of his flatmate. He couldn't do any of it anymore. It was too hard. He would end up hurting someone, whether it was John or some other unfortunate person. "You don't have to deal with a suicidal vampire for much longer." He was about to open the curtains when his brother wrapped his arms around him and yanked him away. 'Just let me go!' He shouted in his mind. 'Please...'

 

John decided he was sick of Sherlock’s moaning, and though it must have been bad to be not empathetic in any way, they didn't have time to discuss the loss of the will to live. He placed the tea down on the closest table, then came back to Sherlock and slowly pushed at his chest, Mycroft doing most of the work, but they did get Sherlock to the couch, on which Mycroft shoved his little brother onto.

 

Sherlock gave up fighting and just fell onto the couch. He stared up at the ceiling like he expected it to melt and huffed. Why were they insisting on keeping him alive when it would just be better for him to die? It made very little sense. The younger vampire closed his eyes and felt a tear slip down his face. "Just let me go."

 

John winced slightly at the red trail going slowly down the vampires face. It was small, he was low on blood. Obviously. "Sherlock, you-" he cut off. The human swallowed glancing up at the elder Holmes. He had a haunted look in his eye.

 

'Is this truly what you want?' The older vampire took a slow breath. He wouldn't wish this, but once the will to live disappeared there was nothing that could be done.

 

Sherlock nodded and his eyes stayed closed. "I don't want this life. I know I will just hurt you. I already killed my own brother. Leave and I'll open the curtains. You won't have my blood on your hands then." He sighed, his eyes opened and they were his original blue. A sign a vampire truly had given up. Any blood that resided in his irises were pulsing around his body for the last time. "I love you both, but I can't live like this."

 

John took a small breath in, seeing Sherlock’s original eye color making him wish he could be happy, though his gut was twisting terribly. He couldn't let this happen, he wouldn't allow him. How would he explain this to everyone? 'Sherlock had gone missing.' "Sherlock, you can't-" Mycroft cut him off.

 

"It is his choice; he has no other reason to live this afterlife." The elder swallowed, placing a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. "I was honored to know you brother mine," he murmured, voice tight. John blinked. No, he'd worked so hard, he'd done his best; Sherlock was fine he couldn't do this. "Sherlock..." He said quietly, eyes welling up without him wanting them to.

 

Sherlock smiled and stood. It was easy to see that he'd given up. There was no life in his eyes or body, he moved slowly as if tired. "I know, John. I know." He smiled, pulling the man into a hug. "Thank you so much, John." He released him and turned to his brother. He didn't hesitate in throwing his arms around his shoulders and squeezing him. "I love you, My." He stepped back and turned towards the curtains. "Please don't feel sorry for me, move on with your lives. Mycroft, keep your job or I will come back as a ghost and kick you and John, fall in love and have children and live your life." The vampire knew it would be quick and painless once the curtains opened. He was ready.

 

Mycroft nodded, and John wanted to choke something out. An apology? Something to stop this. He couldn't let this happen. He was stood frozen, until he felt a cold arm start tugging on his elbow. No, no this wasn't happening. Sherlock can't have been doing this to him. "He's my friend, he's my friend," he said weakly to the older vampire, and the tears in his eyes held in suspension, just waiting.

 

Mycroft clicked his tongue. If at least one of them was strong, they'd be able to do this. "You don't want to see this," he said, pulling John more roughly.

 

John blinked, and a few drops of water slid down his face, clear, unlike the red that had stained Sherlock’s skin. "Fuck," he managed a half-sob half-defeated sound. He was pulled through the door, and just as he was about to close it he was able to let out a small yell. "Goodbye Sherlock!" And the door was closed, John pulling his arm from Mycroft and sliding down the door, hands over his ears. He couldn't bear to think about what was happening just behind him. No more Sherlock Holmes.

 

"Goodbye." Sherlock whispered. He gripped the curtains and sent one last thought to his brother. 'Take care of him.' Sherlock took a deep and final breath and he pulled open the curtains. His blue eyes took in the sunlight. In the few seconds he had to savor the warmth and comfort of the afternoon sun he smiled, and a tear, clear as crystal ran down his face. His heart beat once and then the vampire was ash.

 

Mycroft heard the words, and winced slightly. He heard the thought disappear, and looked sadly down at the human. But it had been Sherlock’s choice. And it was done

.

John took a slow breath. There was nothing he could have done. He looked up, steeling himself like he would on the battle field. Nothing he could have done. He stood, sniffing and wiping his eyes, slapping Mycroft’s shoulder and pursing his lips. It was over. Sherlock Holmes was dead.


End file.
